


porcelain

by mingowow



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Freeform, M/M, liminal spaces, there is also a stray cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingowow/pseuds/mingowow
Summary: Wonwoo and his experiences with liminal spaces.orWonwoo is really just a stray cat.





	porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> i've had a major writing block and finally got this out of my system, so i wanted to share it as a celebration! i've been meaning to finish another minwon piece too, so two birds.
> 
> title has no meaning except for the fact that it's the name of the song i listened to on loop as i wrote this.
> 
> unbeta'd as always!
> 
> thoughts, comments, conversations are always appreciated!

Wonwoo tends to find himself in situations that, while appearing normal, tend to feel… otherworldly.

Like when he’s walking through an empty parking lot late at night and the towering lights scattered about it suddenly flicker and he’s all too aware of the fact that he is very much alone.

Somehow he feels as if he’s hovering above his body, watching things unfold. There’s never anything extraordinary in the way he cuts diagonally across the yellow lines and the shuffle of his sneakers kick along tiny pebbles and littered soju bottle caps. 

He never seems to rejoin himself completely until he reaches the bus stop, where he can finally hear the rumble of passing cars or the chattering of a girl on her phone under the stop’s awning. The sounds and company seem to bring him back to Earth, leaving him to sit on the bench and ponder why he was feeling so peculiar just moments before. 

Or sometimes it happens when he finds himself climbing up a vacant stairwell and all he hears is the echoing of his own feet and the low hum of the exit sign lights as he passes by them with each flight. His breath gets caught in his lungs and he doesn’t let it go until he’s reached his destination.

Moments like these happen often and while he’s attuned to their existence, he doesn’t know why he finds himself caught in them so often. 

There was a brief period of time where he wondered if these instances were anxiety related, but he never came up with an explanation on his own. Talking to his best friend and roommate, Jun, about it didn’t help much either.

Horror movies, Jun had told him. They had seen too many films where when someone is alone in a seemingly safe, non-offensive place, they are suddenly attacked. Chomped on by a zombie, sliced and diced by a psychopath, the possibilities were endless.

Wonwoo makes Jun promise to lay off the scary movies after that.

Admittedly, Wonwoo doesn’t visit home that often these days; between school and work, he barely finds enough time to properly eat (Jun has hand fed him on more than one occasion when he was trying to cram for an exam).

So when his mother practically begs him to come down for the weekend in late March (“It’s the cherry blossom festival, Wonwoo. You haven’t been home for it in years!”), he doesn’t have the heart to deny her.

He and Jun rent a car because while Wonwoo prefers taking the train, his roommate talks him into it by blabbering on and on about how much of an _experience_ it will be for them to share together. He writes it off as Jun’s excitement since he’s never been anywhere south of Daejeon and he made the mistake of waxing poetic about his mother’s cooking.

So while Wonwoo doesn’t usually fold when it comes to things like this, Jun offers to drive and he doesn’t have an excuse to say no to that.

They leave late Friday night, after Wonwoo’s shift at the CU finishes. Jun hooks up his phone to the sound system and puts on a playlist of Chinese ballads. Wonwoo questions whether the music will lull him to sleep or not, but Jun assures him it’s fine; if anything, they’ll keep him awake and alert.

He must be right because while Wonwoo nods off, he wakes up to find they’re already near Daegu. Jun comments he could use some coffee so even thought it’s past 3 AM, they pull off to a rest stop to stretch their legs.

Jun wanders off and leaves Wonwoo to himself. He gets out of the car and leans against the door, rubbing at the sleep stuck in his eyes because everything seems a little hazy and dreamlike.

He hears a woman laugh and his eyes flicker to the one other car in the lot, a couple approaching it with clasped hands and wide grins, separating only before they share a kiss.

Wonwoo pushes himself off the car and stumbles towards the rest area building. He wanders under the covered walkway where the vending machines are and digs through his jacket pocket for loose coins. He’s not particularly thirsty or hungry, but it seems like the thing to do.

It’s then that it hits him, that bizarre feeling where he feels so unlike himself.

His fingers freeze around a 500-won coin and his ears hone in on the buzzing of the machine in front of him. 

“Too many choices, right?”

Wonwoo’s whole body tenses and his lungs seem to stop working for a moment that’s all too long. But then he feels himself center and the odd feeling passes, tension releasing.

He turns his head and looks at the man beside him. They appear to be about the same age, but this guy is just a hair taller, his chest broad and face softer than his own. He’s smiling, warm and friendly, as if Wonwoo isn’t a complete stranger he’s addressing in the middle of the night at an empty rest stop in the middle of nowhere.

The guy motions at the machine and shows Wonwoo the bills in his hand. Still bleary-eyed, Wonwoo steps aside and lets the guy go ahead of him. He watches as he inserts the bills and presses the button for a cider.

“When in doubt, cider!” he tells Wonwoo.

He’s hunches forward now, shoulders rolled inward and back curved, making him appear so much smaller than he was just moments ago. Wonwoo blinks as he stares, adjusting his round glasses on his nose.

Fumbling with retrieving his change, the guy drops the coin and squats down to pick it up. He’s still smiling, though now at nothing in particular (so Wonwoo deems) and he only broadens the expression when he meets Wonwoo’s gaze. With a nod, he’s jogging off back to the parking lot.

Wonwoo squeezes the coin in his pocket between his fingers before pulling it out.

In the car, Jun is waiting with a paper cup between his knees, playing some annoyingly loud game on his phone. It takes a few minutes before he looks up at Wonwoo and cocks an eyebrow.

“Since when do you willingly drink cider?” he asks, motioning to the green bottle in the cupholder.

Wonwoo mumbles something that isn’t Korean nor any other language before settling back in his seat and closing his eyes.

When they finally arrive in Changwon, it’s just after 5 in the morning. But Wonwoo’s parents have always been early risers, so when they reach his childhood home, he’s not surprised to find that breakfast is nearly ready for them.

He and Jun eat their fill, the galbitang tasting more delicious than Wonwoo recalls. He supposes that would be the case when he hasn’t had a real home-cooked meal by someone who loves him in he doesn’t know how long.

His parents let the two of them nap but it feels like he’s only closed his eyes for a few moments before his younger brother, Bohyuk, is shaking him awake.

They all pile in his father’s car and take off for Jinhae, to the cherry blossom festival that Wonwoo hasn’t been to in probably six years. He hasn’t missed it really, but he can see the way his mother is constantly wearing a small smile and his father happily drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Jun tells them awfully dumb jokes that they both earnestly laugh at and Wonwoo feels somehow rejuvenated, even though he’s running on next to no sleep.

Just as he remembers, the festival is packed with people. He can’t take a step without brushing shoulders with someone or having a child dart in front of him unexpectedly. He watches as his mother hand feeds Jun a piece of beotkkot bread and his dad laughs at the sight. 

Bohyuk offers Wonwoo a sip of his cherry blossom lemonade, the taste so sweet and bubbly that he pulls a face before wandering off to find some water.

Wonwoo’s dad raves about a pork ribs restaurant he knows of nearby, so they stop there for dinner. None of them are that hungry, Jun having eaten three corndogs and Bohyuk groaning about a stomachache (“it’s all the sugar you inhaled,” Wonwoo had scolded him). 

It’s so bad though that before their food even arrives, Wonwoo offers to hit up the nearest convenience store to get something for the pain. He can’t stand the whining and whimpering anymore.

While it’s only just past dusk, it still feels eerily quiet as he wanders down the sidewalk. It’s a sharp contrast to the hustle and bustle of the festival they had spent the day at, not a soul insight and the shops along the street all strangely empty. It’s cooler too, the wind whipping up to tousle his hair. 

He cuts through an alleyway when he sees the glowing blue of a GS25 sign and only stops when he hears the faintest _meow_ from somewhere nearby.

Standing perfectly still, he strains his ears to try and catch the sound again. Because for all his reserved and almost shy ways, the one thing Wonwoo can never deny is a cat.

It all feels very cinematic. It’s dimly lit and almost claustrophobic given the narrowness between the buildings and everything cluttered in the alleyway. Wonwoo feels that strange out-of-body sensation tingling within him.

There’s a row of parked scooters along the side of one of the buildings that he hones in on when he hears the soft feline sound again. But this time, it’s follow by the whine of something more human.

“C’mere, please,” the person whispers loudly. “I have some food for you!”

Wonwoo takes one step to the side to get a better look at the scene before him. He finally catches the crouched down figure of someone with their arm outstretched. They lean forward and the cat bolts underneath one of the scooters, near where Wonwoo’s feet are planted.

It appears to be a tabby, grey and white with black lines stretched along its back and legs. Wonwoo squats down and calmly holds out a hand towards the creature.

The other male (Wonwoo deduces from his peripheral vision that it’s a guy) seems to finally notice presence, standing and sauntering forward. Wonwoo holds up his free hand in attempts to get the guy to stop, which he thankfully does.

Wonwoo make a soft sound with his lips and keeps his outstretched hand steady. Sure enough, after a bit of waiting, the stray cat emerges from the scooters and cautiously noses his fingertips before allowing the smiling four-eyed boy to scratch at its neck.

“I just wanted to give it some of my chicken,” the stranger speaks up, Wonwoo almost forgetting about his presence entirely.

When he looks up, he does a double-take, noting the way the guy’s shoulders are rolled and hunched inward, like he’s been reprimanded. His face may be pouting but Wonwoo still clearly recalls it. It’s hard to forget a face like that, even with the cringey yet cute crown of fake cherry blossoms sitting on top of his head.

“Oh. Cider,” Wonwoo says dumbly.

The guy cocks his head to the side before snapping his fingers and grinning widely.

“Oh, wow! What are the chances?”

Wonwoo is relieved he’s not the only one with a decent memory.

The guy has a box of fried chicken he is supposed to be bringing back to his shared hotel room. Wonwoo silently wonders if it’s with a girlfriend or boyfriend, but he keeps the silly thoughts at bay as he helps the guy tear off the breading, shredding the warm meat with his fingers before gently tossing it to the ground for the cat to enjoy.

The light in the alley flickers then and the other startles at it, falling back onto his butt less than gracefully. Something stretches tight inside Wonwoo’s chest as he bites back a grin, eyes glued to the skinny cat as it nibbles away.

A Kakao notification rings through the alley and shatters whatever the dreamy moment was; it’s the other’s phone but Wonwoo is reminded of his parents and Jun and his sweet-toothed brother grumbling in discomfort. 

“My best friend is asking if I’m hiding somewhere and eating all the chicken by myself,” he tells Wonwoo. _Best friend_. “Saying no, not by myself, isn’t entirely a lie now, is it?”

Wonwoo smiles at him, just barely. “I need to get going too.”

“Ah, right. Thank you…?” his voice goes up and Wonwoo feels suddenly shy sharing his name.

“Wonwoo.”

“Thanks, Wonwoo. For teaching me about how to approach a cat.”

“Sure. You just need to not be so forward. It scares most of them off.” He says it and regrets it quickly because it sounds a bit harsh. But the other is nothing but smiles and raised eyebrows.

Wonwoo nods once at nothing in particular and wipes his greasy fingers on his jeans before taking off towards the GS25 sign, still cooly glowing at him.

“Mingyu!” the guy calls out, causing Wonwoo to stop in his tracks.

He turns partly around, fingers curling deep in the pockets of his jacket. “Huh?”

“My name. You never asked for it. I’m Mingyu,” Mingyu grins over at him, crouched to the ground, now off his butt and steady on his toes.

Wonwoo watches as the cat slowly creeps over to the male’s open palm, gingerly biting at the chicken sitting in the center of his hand. 

Mingyu turns his focus back to the animal and lightly scratches at its ear. Even from where he’s standing, Wonwoo can hear the quiet purr it lets out at the other’s touch.

“What do you know, I guess sometimes it _does_ pay to be straight-forward.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gyuwuhao)


End file.
